Flown II - His
by Slick1
Summary: Harm is flying and he misses Mac.


**Flown II - His** **by Sarah Brown**   
**sbrown@slbrown.com**

_JAG and the characters are the property of Donald Bellasario, Paramount and CBS. No copyright infringement intended._

* * *

Harm leaned back and cradled his guitar. He was working on a surprise for Mac. He had steadily worked his way through his CD collection since he'd arrived in Pensacola three months ago, and recently he'd made it to Mark Knopfler's "Golden Heart." One of the songs had made him think so much of Sarah that he'd listened to it over and over. He'd started humming it under his breath until it had become a joke in his squadron. If he wasn't careful, they were going to change his call sign from "Zapper" to "Darling Pretty." He'd decided to figure out the chords and play it for her the next time he saw her. Which seemed like a million days away. 

He put his fingers to the strings and strummed hesitantly. He gained confidence as he made his way through the first verse. 

_It's time to come away, my Darling Pretty_   
_ It's time to come away on the changing tide_   
_ Time to come away, Darling Pretty_   
_ And I need you darling by my side_

He did need her by his side, he thought. He tried to sound confident and happy when he talked to her on the phone each night, partly because he didn't want to worry her, and partly because he didn't want to admit the doubts that sometimes plagued him. Flying again was exhilarating, but it was tough doing it day in and day out, having to meet the highest standards and prove himself all over again. He felt like he had to fly better than the younger guys, not just equally as well. It wasn't easy -- these guys flew like death had no hold on them, like they were invincible. Whereas he had lived enough more years to know better. 

_Heal me with a smile, Darling Pretty_   
_ Heal me with a smile and a heart of gold_   
_ Carry me awhile, my Darling Pretty_   
_ Heal my aching heart and soul_

Sometimes he opened up to Mac, let her know what he was feeling. The first time, he'd half expected some good-natured ribbing, or an "I told you so." He should have known better. He wasn't really surprised to learn that she had already guessed how he was feeling. Instead of teasing him, she comforted him, let him know she understood, and then challenged him to keep going. He knew it must be hard for her not to say, "give it up, come back to JAG, that's where you belong," but she never did. And he loved her for it, even though sometimes he wanted her to say those very words, to convince him to come back to his old life, back to her. 

He remembered the day Mac had told him that she wasn't going to come down to see him this first tour. He'd understood why, and he knew she was right -- it would definitely take a big chunk of his attention away to know that she'd be waiting for him as soon as he touched down. But it was hard, not seeing her. They'd only had a few hours to share their love with each other before he'd taken off. He believed her love was real -- he could hear it in her voice every time they talked. But he wanted her here, in person, so he could reassure himself that he hadn't dreamed the incredible feeling of closeness. He wanted to reach out to her, but he had to reach for the phone instead. 

_Just like a castaway_   
_ Lost upon an endless sea_   
_ I saw you far away_   
_ Come to rescue me_

He thought about that moment in Russia, when he'd been determined to find his father but unsure where to start. He'd felt lost, a feeling he wasn't used to. And then he'd seen her, walking toward him, with a determined expression that said she wasn't going to let him send her home. And he'd wanted to send her home to keep her safe, but even more he'd wanted to grab onto her. She was like a lifeboat in an unfamiliar sea, and she had rescued him. He wasn't sure she knew even today how grateful he'd been to see her. He could never have negotiated his way through Russia without her. He would have been forced to leave without learning his father's fate. 

_Cast away the chains, Darling Pretty_   
_ Cast away the chains away behind_   
_ Take away my pain, my Darling Pretty_   
_ And the chains that once were yours and mine_

_ There will come a day, Darling Pretty_   
_ There will come a day when hearts can fly_   
_ Love will find a way, my Darling Pretty_   
_ Find a heaven for you and I*_

It seemed like so long until he would see her again. And then it would only be a short time until he had to ship out again. 

Putting aside the guitar, he made a decision. He was going to ask Mac to change her mind, to come see him. Any price to be paid in distraction would be more than made up for by the support she'd give him, by the joy of seeing her again, holding her in his arms, just being with her. He'd never realized how much time he and Mac had spent together until he'd had to go cold turkey. Being without her left a hole that the excitement of flying again couldn't begin to fill. 

He walked over to his computer and went online. He checked his email and then sent off a message of his own. He went to a site he had bookmarked previously, and began searching through it. A few minutes later an envelope popped up at the bottom of his screen to let him know he had mail. Reading the response to his earlier note, he nodded with satisfaction, hit some keys, and then logged off. Looking at his watch, he realized she must be home by now. Eagerly, he reached for the phone and punched in the familiar digits. After one ring he heard her sweet voice saying hello. 

"Hey, Mac!" he began. 

"Hey, Flyboy, I was just thinking about you!" he heard her say. "How was your day?" 

"It was fine," he told her, "but not as good as next week is going to be." 

"What happens next week?" she asked. "They let you take off the training wheels and put you in a real plane?" 

"Even better," he said. 

"Better!" she said in amazement. "That's all you've been talking about since you got there. What could be better than that?" 

"Next week is when you come out to see me!" he told her, holding his breath for her reaction. 

On the other end of the line, Mac held her breath. Her heart was warring with her head. She wanted so badly to see him that she was tempted to jump at his invitation. But she had to do what was best for him. Reluctantly she said, "Harm, we talked about this. I don't want to distract you . . ." 

"The only thing that is distracting me right now is how much I miss you," he assured her. "In fact, I think I could get my CO to write a letter telling you that you'd be doing the entire squadron a favor by coming down here so I'll stop talking about how much I want to see you. You'd be putting us all out of our misery," he wheedled. 

She hesitated. "Are you sure? I don't want to get in your way. You've been waiting for the chance to fly again for so long, I don't want to do anything to mess that up for you." 

"Seeing you won't mess me up, it'll help me," he said seriously. He sucked in a breath. "Sarah, I need you. I don't think I can get through this without having you here with me, at least for a few days," he admitted. "I never realized how much I depended on your support until you weren't there." 

All of Mac's qualms disappeared at his words. She realized in wonder that while he'd told her at least a hundred times beginning the night before he left that he loved her, he'd never said he needed her. She knew that he'd relied on her as many times as she'd depended on him over the last few years, but he'd never come out and said it. 

"Okay, so I'll buy a ticket," she said excitedly. 

"No need. I already did. You leave next Thursday night and come back the following Tuesday. It's an electronic ticket -- they're faxing your itinerary to the office." 

"But what if the Admiral won't let me have the time off?" she asked. 

"I just emailed him. He said fine. He said maybe you'd quit acting like a bear with a sore paw when you got back. I got the ticket online," he told her proudly. 

"Online! E-mail! When you were at JAG I could hardly get you to turn the damn computer on!" she exclaimed. 

"Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures," he said. "So that means I'll see you in six days! I can hardly wait!" 

Mac laughed joyfully. "Six days! That's so much better than three months! I can't believe it!" 

"Believe it!" he said. "Oh, and Mac . . . I have a surprise for you." 

"Surprise! What is it?" she asked eagerly. 

"Can't tell 'ya! Don't get too excited, though," Harm warned, not wanting her to be disappointed when the time came. "It's just a home-made expression of my love for you." 

"Hmmm . . ." Mac mused. "I seem to remember that I really liked the last home-made expression of your love you gave me," she said. 

Harm grew hot, remembering the long hours they had spent making love before he had to get on a plane to Florida. "Oh, really, you remember that, huh?" he asked. "Well, I'm glad you liked it. I worked very hard on it." 

"Yes, it was_ very _hard," she agreed. "I'm really looking forward to your next project," she said, laughing. 

"You only have to wait for six more days," he said slyly. "I'm thinking I'll have this latest one done about twenty minutes after you get off the plane." 

"Oh, don't rush it," she said throatily. "The best things take time to build." 

"How much time?" he asked. 

"Mmmm . . . could take hours," she speculated. 

"Hours, huh? That would take a lot of effort. I might need some help." 

"Oh, I'd be glad to help you," she purred. "I have some experience with these do-it-yourself projects." 

"Well, it never hurts to have someone lending a hand." 

"I'll lend you whatever it takes to the job done," she assured him. 

Harm drew in a breath. Banter was all fine and good, but this was getting out of hand. He pictured her on the other end of the line, probably laying across her bed, the bed where they had made love. She'd been home from work for awhile, so she'd probably stripped off her uniform and changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Her long, toned bare legs were probably propped up, letting the shorts slip down her thighs. She was probably twining her fingers through the phone cord, winding and unwinding it. He flashed to the feeling of those fingers winding through his hair, then sliding down his neck to his chest. He could almost feel them now. He shifted restlessly in his chair. 

"You still with me, Sailor?" Mac asked. "I wouldn't want to have to do this project all alone," she said seductively. 

"Sarah," he said a little breathlessly. "A few minutes ago six days seemed so close, but now it's starting to sound like an eternity." 

"Well, maybe we should lay some groundwork," she suggested, hardly believing her own daring. "After all, good planning makes for a better performance." 

"They teach you that in the Marines?" he asked. He got up and carried his portable phone with him into the bedroom. 

"Some things you just have to learn on your own," she explained. "Or from a close friend." 

"How close?" he asked kicking off his shoes and sitting down on his bed. 

"Very close. Someone you trust, or else you can't believe it," she said seriously. 

"Well, I've always considered myself trustworthy," he said. "So where do we start?" 

"Well, you need to get out the proper tools," she said. "And of course it's very important to have a comfortable work space. Are you in a comfortable work space?" she asked. 

"I am. Are you?" 

"Yes, I have plenty of room to stretch out," she assured him, confirming his suspicions. 

"The appropriate work clothes are important, too," he told her. "You wouldn't want to be wearing anything that could get caught in the machinery." 

"Oh, you're absolutely right. In fact I'm wearing something right now that could interfere with our work. I'd better get out of it. How about you?" she asked. 

"I'm pulling off all restrictive garments as we speak," he assured her. "You can't be too careful with this kind of delicate work." 

She pictured his clothes coming off piece by piece, revealing more and more of his solid body. She remembered touching every inch of that body by the time dawn had come on their last day together. 

"Well, then, I guess we can get to business," she said, glad he couldn't see her blushing. She talked boldly, but she was still shy around him when it came to sex. She'd spent years suppressing her feelings for him, and just one night giving them expression -- although what a night it had been. She remembered running her hands through the hair on his chest, sliding them around to his back, and down . . . she remembered the feeling of his body pressed against hers, with nothing to come between them at last . . . As she thought of it a bolt of heat went through her, moving down her stomach to her thighs. 

"Sarah, no more kidding around," Harm said seriously. "Do you really want to . . . I mean . . ." he trailed off. He was blushing, for God's sake. It was just that sharing these feelings with Mac was so new. He had loved her for so long, but he'd suppressed those feelings ruthlessly. He'd certainly never let himself think of her in a physical way, although God knew it had been hard not to, she was so beautiful. He still looked back on that one passionate night with wonder. They had come together so naturally, holding nothing back . . . remembering it, he felt his embarrassment melt away. 

"Harm, I'm very serious," she told him. "A little nervous, but serious." 

"Don't be nervous, Sarah," he said. "I'll be with you the whole way." 

Slowly, a little awkwardly at first, they began to talk to each other, whispering the things they had longed to do to each other for months, the places they had wanted to touch, using their partners' hands to fulfill their longings. And they told one another where they had longed to be touched, the fantasy growing and building as they opened up to one other. 

As the tension grew, their heated words were interrupted more and more often by gasps and sighs of pleasure. Gentle caresses and fleeting touches gave way to more intimate strokes as their passion built. Finally the flames caught them both, burning away the last sense of separation and uniting them across the miles. 

"Harm!" she said when she'd had time to recover. "I've never . . . that was incredible." There was silence on the other end of the line. "Harmon Rabb, Jr., you'd better not be asleep on me!" 

"I'm awake," he assured her. "Just a little drained. Ninja Girl, I'm going to have to watch myself around you. If you can do that to me over the phone, God help me when I see you in person." 

"I'll try to take it easy on you," she giggled. "I know you Flyboys are delicate." 

"Delicate!" he exclaimed. "Say that to me again when you're here in front of me. I'll show you delicate." They both laughed. 

"I miss you so much, Sarah," he told her quietly. "I love you." 

"I love you, too, Harm," she said, tears pooling in her eyes. "I can't wait until Thursday. If the Admiral thinks I've been cranky before, what until he gets a load of me next week, counting down the minutes." 

"And seconds." 

"And seconds," she agreed. 

"Well, 'night sailor," she said regretfully after a long silence. 

"Goodnight, Marine," he said reluctantly. 

They both held the phone a moment longer, neither wanting to break the connection. Finally Harm switched off his phone as Mac replaced her receiver.   


*Mark Knopfler, "Darling Pretty,"_ Golden Heart_, 1996, Warner Bros. Records   


THE END   


_This story copyright 1999 by Sarah Brown, all rights reserved._


End file.
